God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 573 : Plump Vs Firm

Kafka's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as he stared into space, the absurdity of the message hitting him like a punch to the gut.

'What the hell?!' He thought, his mind screaming as he mentally shouted up at the heavens. 'What kind of request is this? Do you gods even know how human anatomy works? There's no way any of them can produce milk—I've tried, trust me, nothing comes out! Are you all just sitting up there making up nonsense now?'

A calm, composed voice answered from above, cutting through his frantic outburst with an almost serene indifference. It was Evangeline, her tone as smooth as ever.

'Oh, Kafka, there's no need to get so worked up. It can't be helped, you see. The Goddess of Health, Fiona, got terribly thirsty when you all were talking about milk earlier and that's why she set up this request for you.'

Kafka's dismay deepened, his brow twitching as he processed her words. 'Thirsty?!' He shot back mentally, his voice dripping with incredulity. 'She got thirsty over what I said, and now I've got to milk three women like they're cows? This is insane! And what do you mean 'set up this request'? How am I supposed to—'

Evangeline interrupted, her voice unwavering, a faint hint of leisure threading through it. "Now, now, don't worry about the logistics, Kafka. Fiona's already taken care of that. She's made some...adjustments to their bodies to accommodate the request."

"...You won't have to do anything impossible—just put in a little effort, and it'll all work out fine."

Kafka's head snapped up, his gaze darting immediately to Camila, Nina, and Abigaille, his eyes zeroing in on their chests with a mix of disbelief and panic. 'Wait...What?!' He demanded aloud in his mind, his voice rising. 'You're telling me she's changed them? Is that true? Are you serious right now?'

Evangeline's reply came with a calm certainty that only heightened his unease. 'Most definitely.' She said, her tone as if she were discussing the weather. 'Fiona's tweaks are already in place. As long as you put in a bit of effort—well, you know what to do everything will flow just fine. Trust me, it's all been arranged. So, good luck with your request Son of Lady Vanitas and I hope you the best in your 'milking' endeavours.'

And with that, the connection cut off, leaving a faint echo of her serene farewell ringing in his head.

Kafka stood there, frozen, his eyes still locked on the three women before him—Camila with her usual smirk, Nina chuckling softly at something his mother had said, and his mother herself beaming with that warm, innocent smile.

They were oblivious, chatting away, completely unaware of the divine intervention that had just turned their bodies into...what? Milk factories?

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His mind reeled, a mix of disbelief, dread, and a tiny, perverse spark of curiosity swirling within him.

Camila glanced over at him, catching the strange, wide-eyed look on his face. "What's with you?" She asked, her smirk sharpening as she tilted her head. "You look like you just saw a ghost or swallowed one."

Nina frowned, picking up on his odd silence too. "Yeah, Kafka, you okay? You've gone all quiet and twitchy over there. Did we say something weird?"

Abigaille's smile faltered slightly, her brows knitting with concern. "Oh, dear, you're not feeling sick, are you? You were fine a second ago!"

Kafka blinked, snapping out of his daze as he forced a laugh, though it came out more strained than he intended.

"N-No, I'm fine!" He said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush off their worry. "Just...uh, zoned out for a sec. Thinking about...stuff. You know, random thoughts. Nothing important!" His eyes darted back to their chests—Camila's full curves, Nina's perfectly shaped frame, and his mother's plump silhouette—and he swallowed hard, the weight of Fiona's ridiculous request pressing down on him like a boulder.

'Adjustments? Effort? A bucket of milk?' He thought frantically, his pulse racing. What am I even supposed to do—walk up and say. 'Hey, ladies, mind if I milk you for a divine quest? They'll think I've lost my mind!'

But the alternative—his chest growing until he suffocated under its weight wasn't exactly appealing either.

He rubbed his temples, a nervous chuckle escaping him as he muttered under his breath.

"Gods above, you've got to be kidding me..."

And while he was wondering how he was going to carry out this request without freaking them all out when they see milk flowing out of their breasts, Camila's sharp eyes caught the way Kafka's fervent gaze lingered on her chest, his stare intense and unmistakable despite his attempt to play it off.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips, her earlier concern giving way to that familiar teasing glint. She leaned forward slightly, her voice low and deliberate.

"You know, Kafka, you don't have to stare at my breasts like some sneaky little thief. It's not like we're strangers anymore, you and I. If you want a peek—or more—all you've got to do is ask nicely. I'd be happy to flash you, maybe even let you give them a squeeze."

With a dramatic flourish, she tugged her top upward with one hand, revealing the smooth, taut skin of her navel, while her other hand slid beneath her breasts, pushing them up and together.

The fabric strained slightly, accentuating their fullness, and she gave them a little shake for emphasis, her grin widening as she watched his reaction.

"See? Just say the word, and they're all yours."

Nina's jaw dropped, her cheeks flushing as she snapped her head toward Camila. "Oh my God, Camila, have some shame!" She exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "You're supposed to be this elegant, sophisticated woman—where's your dignity? You can't just flaunt yourself like that in front of everyone!"

Camila shot her a sidelong glance, her smirk unwavering. "Dignity's overrated, Nina. Besides, it's not 'everyone'—it's Kafka. He's seen worse from me, and I'm pretty sure he's not complaining." She gave her breasts another playful jiggle, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Nina huffed, crossing her arms, but then a flicker of curiosity—and maybe a hint of competitiveness—sparked in her eyes. She shifted her gaze to Kafka, her flush deepening as she bit her lip, her voice dropping to a shy murmur.

"Well...if he wants to see mine too, that's fine. I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't be satisfied with just yours anyway." She hesitated, then added, quieter. "A-As long as he calls me pretty or something in return...I'll let him have a peek."

Hearing Nina's words, Camila's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into a cold, piercing stare as she zeroed in on Nina.

"Excuse me?" She said, her tone sharp and icy, her hand still cupping her chest. "Why exactly wouldn't he be satisfied with mine? They're big, they're bountiful—perfect, really."

She shook them again, more emphatically this time, the motion drawing attention to their generous curves as she leaned closer to Nina.

"What's not to love here? Look at them—prime real estate."

Nina scoffed, her own smile turning sharp and defiant as she uncrossed her arms and straightened up, pushing her chest out slightly.

"Big and bountiful? Please, Camila, let's call them what they are—fat and flabby. Back in the day, sure, you had firm tits to die for, but now?"

She smirked, her voice dripping with mock pity.

"They're sagging like overripe fruit. Kafka deserves something perkier, something that doesn't droop halfway down your chest."

A cold, dangerous smile curled Camila's lips as she stepped closer, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and venom.

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you." She retorted, her voice low and cutting. "Jealousy's a bad look, Nina. You're just mad because you don't have anything close to this kind of volume. Plump beats your little hard rocks any day—mine are soft, inviting, the kind of breasts a man can sink into."

"...Yours? They probably feel like he's groping a couple of stones."

Nina's eyes flashed, her smile tightening as she took a step forward, closing the gap.

"Stones? At least mine don't sag like sad sacks of dough, Camila. And I'll just let you know that Kafka loves how firm they are—perfect little handfuls that drive him wild. Yours probably just smother him into exhaustion."

Camila laughed, a sharp, biting sound as she pressed even closer, their chests nearly brushing now.

"Smother him? Oh, honey, he adores that. He's obsessed with how soft they are, how he can sink right into them—they're a paradise he can't resist. Your tiny little bumps? He'd be bored in seconds."

Nina glared, her own chest pushing forward as she shot back. "Bored? With mine, he's never bored—they're responsive, perky, just the right size to tease him senseless. Yours are just...excessive, Camila. Too much of a good thing turns into a chore."

"Excessive?!" Camila snapped, her voice a mix of outrage and glee as she closed the distance, their breasts now pressing against each other, the fabric of their tops straining as they jostled. "These are a feast, Nina—a banquet he can't get enough of. He loves how heavy they are, how they fill his hands perfectly. Your little cherries? He'd be done with them before he even starts."

Nina's cheeks flushed red, but she held her ground, her voice rising with defiance. "Heavy's right—too heavy! He loves mine because they're light, eager, driving him crazy without overwhelming him. Yours are just a burden he has to deal with!"

The tension between Camila and Nina crackled like a live wire, their breasts pressed firmly against each other, their insults flying with venomous glee.

"Yours are saggy!" Nina hissed, her smile wicked and sharp. "He probably gets tired just looking at them!"

"Yours are pathetic!" Camila countered, her grin icy and unyielding. "He'd need a magnifying glass to even care!"

Their voices rose, their bodies shifting as if they were seconds away from slapping their tits against one another in some absurd, primal showdown.

But just as the situation teetered on the edge of a catfight, Abigaille's voice cut through the fray, soft yet firm, like a gentle hand pulling them back from the brink.

"Um, actually." She said, stepping forward with a hesitant but determined look. "Camila's probably right here. My son, Kafi...he really does enjoy bigger ones better."

Camila's face lit up instantly, a triumphant smile breaking across her lips as she turned to Abigaille, practically glowing with validation.

"See? I told you, Nina! Abi knows what's up-she's on my side!" She puffed out her chest even more, giving her breasts a proud little bounce as she basked in the support.

Nina, meanwhile, froze, her jaw dropping in disbelief as she stared at Abigaille.

"Wait!? What?!" She sputtered, her voice rising with indignation. "You're throwing me under the bus like that? That's not fair, Abi! I thought we were in this together—how can you just side with her?!"

Abigaille's cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she raised her hands quickly, her expression apologetic yet oddly resolute. "N-No, wait, hold on!" She stammered, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean it like that—it's not that he likes Camila's best either!"

Both Camila and Nina blinked, their argument grinding to a halt as they turned to her, caught off guard by the sudden twist.

"What?" Camila asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean by that, Abi?"

"Yeah, explain yourself!" Nina chimed in, her arms crossing as she narrowed her eyes, still smarting from the perceived betrayal,

Abigaille's flush deepened, her hands fidgeting nervously as she averted her gaze for a moment before meeting theirs again.

"Well.. It's just that Kafi...he absolutely adores big breasts." She said, her voice dropping to a shy murmur. "He'd literally die for them—he's obsessed. And, um...while both of you have quite the volume on your own—Camila's full and lush, Nina's perky and firm—l...I..."

"...I still think he likes mine the most since you know..."

"...They're much bigger then both of yours."

With a timid but deliberate motion, she pushed her massive breasts upward, her top straining against their sheer size as she emphasized her point to their utter dismay...